Resurfacing of a soul,
Transmigration of a soul.
Do you agree?
Does another life begin when we take our leave of this world?
I hope so.
When called upon,
and not too soon I might add,
my soul will plead to exit this vapid terrain
and soar through skies of the bluest blue.
Winging my way towards searing sun
and then plummeting like a stone
to the bottom of the deepest ocean.
I want to transit through continents,
transparency indubitable, with
my fingers smoothing the brows of the hurt and the weak.
Flowers will always bloom
Rivers will always run
Tides ebbing and flowing to the command of the moon
And life might then appear sweeter
This sometimes worthless existence may make sense after all